Where the Path Leads Us
by Scythe Zero
Summary: Planet Vegeta is still here, but so is Frezia. With all our heros on different paths, what are the chances of them meeting up? Danger awaits them and they can't survive alone. CHAPTER 6 UP!
1. Prologue

Prologue 

Single events change the course of history, and for every universe in which an event did happen, there is another in which it did not. 

When Frezia destroyed the planet Vegeta in one universe, in another the tyrant shot a beam through the heart of a desperate Bardock, then turned towards the red planet and changed his mind. 

It was foolish, really, he mused to himself, to be worried about such pathetic beings. Impressive as they were, surely there were better uses for the warrior race. Frezia smirked, descending back into his ship. 

Zarbon and Dodoria stood there, the late King Vejita at their feet, awaiting orders. Quick as lightning the Lord relayed the change of plans. 

Prince Vejita – no, the new King Vejita – was to be returned to his people along with his guard Nappa. Any infants, soliders or other off-planet Saiya-jins were to return to Vegeta for the young monarchs coronation. 

Of course, it would be shame to leave the boy, so impressionable at his age, without a representative of his Lord close at hand. Frezia trusted very few enough to leave them alone for any significant length of time. Dodoria was simply too idiotic for such a job, but Zarbon . . . 

Ah, yes. Zarbon would do nicely for such an important mission. Much as he would be missed, the green skinned alien was well trained and could be trusted to stay in line without Frezia breathing directly down his neck. 

Twirling a wine glass in his hand, Frezia smirked once again, well pleased with this new direction. 

* * * * 

Two days later a one-man ship travelling through space to its programmed destination, Earth, received new orders. It was to return itself and its cargo back to the origin point, Vegeta. 

Slowing to make the adjustment, the ships cargo was awakened. The scream of a new-born echoed in the confines of the one-man pod as it sped on its way, back to the planet Vegeta. 


	2. Chapter 1: Situations

Oopppss...forgot to put comments on the prologue.  
Warnings: just swearing at the moment, that will probably change with the rating.  
Pairing(s): not sure myself yet, but beware that I am a known yaoi writter  
Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z or its characters. I don't own anything for that matter. 

  
  


Chapter 1: Situations 

15 years later.... 

The nineteen-year-old king of Vegeta stalked through the corridors of his palace, servants and nobles alike jumping out of his way. His Majesty, King Vejita was seriously displeased to have been summoned - summoned! - to Ambassador Zarbon's quarters, particularly when it disrupted his already few training hours. 

Vejita was not an inattentive king, he kept a firm grip on the running of Vegeta, but the hours he put aside for training were his and his alone. Not to interrupted by the whim of some playboy babysitter sent by Frezia. 

Of course, Vejita would be the last one to complain about Zarbon's habits, which at least allowed Vejita breathing room. It was an appreciably different situation than if he had been directly under Frezia himself. 

Growling to himself Vejita picked up his pace and hoped that this "meeting" was not bad news. Like, for instance, a visit by Frezia. Such visits were rare but left powerful....messages. 

After the last such visit Vejita had been forced to replace several top commanders and senators due to their "inexplicable disappearances". Amazingly all had expressed anti-Frezia sentiments or were discovered to have affiliations with distinctly anti-Frezia groups afterwards. "Such an uncanny coincidence," Frezia had said of the matter, a light smile on his face. 

Coming to a stop in front of the Ambassador's door, Vejita took a moment to school his face and emotions into a cool calm. It took little effort after fifteen years. 

Deliberately he waltzed in without knocking. 

  


Zarbon turned to punish whoever dared invade his privacy, then upon seeing who it was settled for a scowl. Though he was well aware of the young king's hatred for him, Zarbon himself was mildly fond of the boy. _Man, really,_ he amended as his gaze took in the admittedly small but appealing form of Vegeta's monarch. Vejita matched Zarbon's scowl with his own, clearly displeased at being gawked at. 

"King Vejita" Zarbon bowed only the slightest amount, a bow of equals. Vejita didn't appear to notice, but Zarbon knew it chafed the boy. 

"May I offer you a drink and a seat, Majesty?" Zarbon murmured in his most cordial voice. 

Vejita raised an eyebrow, "Thank you, no Ambassador. Forgive me, but I am pressed for time. May we get to the heart of your...request for an audience with me?" 

Zarbon only barely kept a straight face. This verbal sparing with the king amused him to no end. They both knew who had the final say here, yet Zarbon enjoyed the game too much to take advantage of that fact. 

"As you wish, Majesty." Zarbon said, putting particular emphasis on the title. 

"My Lord Frezia has contacted me," Zarbon noted that to Vejita's credit he did not so much as wince, "it seems that your age has come to his notice." 

"My age? What concern might my age be to Lord Frezia?" Vejita's voice was duly uninterested. Zarbon absently congratulated himself on his teaching of the boy. 

"You have just recently turned nineteen. As you are aware you cannot take full control of the throne until you are twenty, a year from now." 

Zarbon paused to allow Vejita to take in the full impact of that. The leaders of the respective worlds under Frezia's reign were required to take oath to Lord Frezia. Since Vejita had been too young to take on all the responsibilities of king at the age of four, Frezia had delayed the oath until Vejita was fully in his place as king at the age of twenty. The oath was... not a particularly pleasant experience. It also meant that many of the freedoms Vejita and his people enjoyed now stood at risk. 

"My Lord believes that some . . . preparation for your oath would be in order. He shall advise me of the details later." 

The young king said nothing to that, Zarbon was not surprised. There really wasn't anything he could say. 

"As well," Zarbon continued, "there is the matter of an heir. Any leader requires an heir as a certain amount of assurance, and your situation is a tad more precarious than most." The Saiya-jin people had been restless as of late. 

Vejita frowned at this, "Ambassador Zarbon, I assure you that there is nothing 'precarious' about my position. As for the matter of an heir, I am well aware of it. My senate has been quite vocal on that point. Please assure Lord Frezia I am looking into the matter." 

"I am sure you are. My Lord Frezia merely wished for me to express his concern on the matter." Zarbon added another bow to this statement. 

"Lord Frezia's concern is greatly appreciated, however the matter is being taken care of." Vejita returned evenly. "Ambassador," he continued, "if you will excuse me, I am afraid I am rather pressed for time." 

"Of course, King Vejita. A pleasure as always." 

"The pleasure was mine, Ambassador." 

  


Bulma Briefs swore once again. It was a new swear word, something she had picked up since coming here to Vegeta a year ago. Roughly translated it meant something along the lines of "go take a flying fuck at the nearest sun." 

Actually it was probably a bit worse considering the surprise on her guard's face. _Raddish..or Radditsu...or something,_ either way, he was new and wasn't used to her habit of swearing at her work. Yet. 

From the way this was going it wouldn't take him long to get used to it either. Bulma bit her lip to keep from screaming as yet another test failed in a puff of smoke. 

It was an improvement on the standard scouter. One of Frezia's recent take-overs had involved a planet with highly advanced holographic technology, but it was done only on a large scale. Bulma had been told to bring down the scale to the point where it could be localized to one person, used as a disguise. 

This was a lot easier to ask for than to deliver and the fact that Bulma despised the people she was working for didn't help. 

_Things could be worse,_ she reflected as she once again sat down to figure out what went wrong. Earth had been swarmed by Frezia's troops just under three years ago, and had lost its battle for freedom a year after that. Bulma had made and lost friends in those fights. 

Later she had learned that they were actually "lucky." Most planets were just purged of all sentient life forms and sold off. Earth had very nearly met that fate too. Except someone high up decided that humans made useful slaves. _So, instead we're inspected for our talents and used as slaves at every level, bred like horses for labour._

Bulma, as one of the brightest scientists on Earth and - as it turned out - most of the galaxy, had been brought to Vegeta for "safety reasons." She glanced at her guard, a muscle-bound Saiya-jin, _Right, for my own safety._ Realistically she was actually treated rather well, due to her usefulness. It didn't change the fact that she was still a slave. Her anger boiled as she watched the readouts from yet another round of testing. 

"Stupid, lousy hunk of shit! Work or I'll have you turned into a toaster!" 

Radditsu sweat-dropped. 

  


In rather less appealing district of Vegeta's capital, Saradu, than either King Vejita or Bulma Briefs dwelled in, a fifteen-year-old orphan stood in the shadows watching people pass by with bright eyes. 

Most who dared the streets in this area were servant/slaves who didn't live with their masters, prostitutes, their customers or homeless street-rats like him. Occasionally one could see drunken off-duty soldiers or sober on-duty guard patrols weaving their way through the streets. Those last two were the ones to watch out for, they spelled trouble in the worst of ways. 

A rumbling from his stomach informed the boy it was way past breakfast time. Quietly he started to move, keeping to the shadows. 

Mentally he debated over whether or not he should take the time to get outside city borders to the wilderness surrounding it. He was strapped for cash and hunting didn't cost anything, as long as you weren't caught. The wilderness was a protected zone, under royal control, and hunting without permission - even to keep yourself alive - was met with less than compassion. 

Of course, at this point his other option was stealing goods from the marketplace, but the teen recoiled from that. Even at his most desperate, something about stealing made his stomach clench in distaste. 

His eyes tracked the movements of people on the increasingly higher-class streets. If someone decided to have a little "fun" with him here, no guard would rescue him. The lesson had been learned long ago. He was worth less than shit and no one was going to care if something happened to him. 

A sharp scream broke his concentration, bringing the boy to a stop. The scream had been female and frightened. It had been coming from... _There! The alleyway!_

Rightfully he shouldn't get involved. It was probably some slave owner dealing with a problematic slave. It wasn't any of his business and would only get him in trouble. 

A second scream, this one tinged with pain, made the decision for him. 


	3. Chapter 2: Meetings

Same stuff still aplies from the last chapter

Warnings: dark situaions, mention of death and rape.

Author's Note: As my boyfriend pointed out, not everyone is aware of the story of Piccolo Daimaio, and this makes no sense without it. Piccolo Daimaio (Senior, the original one) was Kami's age (looked it too), he showed up in Dragonball trying to take over the world. Goku, of course, defeated him. However, in that fight Daimaio spit out an egg (Namekian reproduction, remember?) and from that egg hatched Piccolo Daimaio Junior, or, as we know him, simply Piccolo. The Piccolo Daimaio Kuririn refers to here is the original one, the old demon with designs on ruling the earth.  


  
  


Chapter 2: Meetings 

On Earth . . . . 

Kuririn was certain that things could not possibly get worse. Earth was enslaved by the Ice-jin Empire, and most of his friends were either dead or taken as slaves. 

Mentally he ticked them off. His master, Kame-sen'in, was dead. He had been killed in the final battle for Earth's freedom after using all up all of his power in a last ditch effort. Oolong had been killed, and as far as Kuririn knew, eaten as some soldier's lunch. 

Yamcha and Pu'ar were on the missing list, they had been taken but no one knew any more than that. Bulma, ChiChi and Lunch had all been taken as well. They were on planet Vegeta as slaves, assuming they were still alive. Kuririn didn't want to think about what was probably happening to the three girls. 

Chaotsu was dead, killed a few months ago as an example to those who still rebelled against Frezia's rule. Tien-shin-han, more commonly called Tien, was still alive, but without his quirky little friend around the warrior had lost a lot of his spirit. 

Yajirobi was alive, no surprise there, the guy had more lives than a cat. _Speaking of cats,_ Korin was still around as well but in no condition to fight. 

Even worse was that Piccolo Daimaio - one of Earth's ancient evils who had sided with them only because it was the best chance at repelling the invaders - was dead. He had been killed in a fight with the Ginyu Force, there had been no one else there. His death, however, also meant that Kami, too, was dead and without them the Dragonballs ceased to exist. 

Kuririn sighed and continued hunting for food. He was in hiding with what was left of the resistence against Frezia. They were a motley crew, fewer and fewer each day with little hope of accomplishing their goal. Mostly they stayed in the wilderness, anyplace that might get overlooked in all but the most discriminating of searches. 

At sixteen Kuririn was one of the resistance's best fighters, but he wasn't enough. They needed a miracle. Before Piccolo Daimaio's death that miracle had been the Dragonballs. The amusing little hunt Bulma had been wanting to take her friends on had taken on a whole different meaning in light of the invasion. They hadn't even gotten a chance to start the search before Piccolo Daimaio's death. 

"No use thinking about things of the past," Kuririn muttered to himself. 

"You shouldn't be so loud out here," a gruff voice informed him. 

Kuririn whirled, _I didn't even feel anyone's ki!_ He gasped in shock at what he found. Before him was someone who looked like a young version of Piccolo Daimaio, green skin, antenna and all. 

"W-who are you?" he managed to choke out. 

The figure grunted, "Piccolo Daimaio Jr." 

Hope flicked, "Junior? Do you have Piccolo Daimaio Senior's connection with Kami?" 

A nod. 

Kuririn's mind jumped to the next conclusion, _then Kami is still alive...and..._

"And the Dragonballs are still here!!" 

  


On Vegeta . . . . 

Radditsu had never been so glad to be off-duty in his life. This guard posting was supposed to be a break from his continuous off-world postings the last ten years. He had a feeling that it was going to be anything but. The human woman had a pair of lungs to screech the ears off of anyone. 

The third-class warrior headed in the direction of the general training arenas. After that last shift he need to stretch and run through a few kata's to relieve the ache standing in the one spot created. That and he didn't want to get out of shape. 

_Not that it really matters,_ he thought bitterly. 

Radditsu was a man who was pretty much going no-where. His entire twenty years of life had been spent in military service, straight from the age of four. And the rest of his life would probably be spent doing the same thing. 

A third-class Saiya-jin, orphaned at the age of five, he had no opportunities, no advancement to look forward to. No mate or family in his life. His father had been killed fifteen years ago, the death of a traitor to Frezia. His mother had killed herself from the grief of his loss. And that was all the family Radditsu had ever had. 

Wait, he had a kid brother somewhere. In the mess after the former King Vejita died Radditsu had been separated from his brother, Kakarotto. Idly he tossed the idea of searching for his brother around his head and dismissed it. The brat - who would be fifteen by now - was most likely dead. Even if he wasn't, the last thing Radditsu needed was a little brother kicking around bothering him. 

_Still,_ some part of him insisted, _it might be nice to have some family around._

Cheering, hackling and the general roar of a crowd brought him out of his reverie. Radditsu found himself at the main training arena, at the back of a huge group of excited Saiya-jins. 

"What the.." he exclaimed out loud as he was jostled by people old and young. A hand grabbed him and pulled him back from being trampled. 

"What dream world are you in Rad?" a bright female voice inquired. 

Radditsu stared at his rescuer for a moment before recognizing her. 

"Caulif?" 

"The one and the only. Who'd you think I was? Old man Turnicu?" 

Radditsu laughed at the mention of their former commander. Caulif had been one of his group-mates through early training back when he was six or so. 

Casually he took in her appearance. She had grown up. A few inches shorter than himself, and only a couple of months younger, Caulif had turned into a real woman. Short auburn hair spiked in every direction, dark brown eyes sparked with wicked humour, and the corner of her mouth twitched up in laughter. 

Very suddenly Radditsu found himself feeling nervous. Surprised at this he turned towards the activity. 

"So, I don't suppose you want to tell me what all of this is, do you?" he questioned. 

"You don't know?" she replied, genuinely shocked. Then she grinned, "His Majesty descended from on high to grace us lower people with his presence. Vejita-sama is having it out with Nappa, here in the less classy parts of hell." She ignored the glares sent her way from this comment. 

"You still don't know how to keep your mouth shut, do you?" 

"Nope. Not a clue. C'mon! Let's get closer!" With that Radditsu found himself being dragged towards the crowd. 

_Oh well, I_ was _bored._

  


It took only a split second to assess the situation. He may have been only fifteen, but he was more than experienced enough to recognize what was happening here. 

A human girl about his age stood in a defensive crouch glaring at the man in front her. Her top was torn at the shoulder, her lip was cracked and bleeding, and a new bruise was starting to swell on her cheek. 

The guy was obviously a soldier, third class from his armour. There was a nasty bruise around his eye. Obviously he had tried something and she had caught him by surprise with a punch that had landed there. It wouldn't happen again, and it looked like she was about to pay for it. 

The teen moved a second before the soldier did, deflecting his arm before he hit the girl. Surprise registered in the man's eyes as the boy dropped and swept his leg under the soldier's. The man slammed down on the ground with a loud thump. 

_Okay, there's only one way to do this,_ the orphan thought in the moment of time allotted to him by the man's fall. Running wasn't an option, neither was a prolonged fight, either would end badly. What he was about to do went against everything he believed in, but there wasn't any other option. 

Quicker than could be tracked by either the man or the girl, he hit the man solidly on the head. Not strong enough to kill or hurt him, but enough to knock him out for a good amount of time. 

Turning, the boy realized that this human girl was looking at him through narrowed eyes, suspicious. _Smart girl._

"We need to get out of here before his friends come by looking," he informed her quietly but in a matter-of-fact voice. Seeing her glance toward the man he added quickly, "He's fine, just knocked out." 

Wearily she looked him over, then stared into his eyes for a moment, as if looking for something. Finally she nodded. 

"One thing first though," she challenged. "What's your name?" 

"Kakarotto." 

"ChiChi. Let's go." 


	4. Chapter 3: Thoughts

Nothing new, oh wait, that's wrong. I've decided on pairings. Those of you who twitched when I mentioned yaoi pairings can relax, all the main pairings will be heterosexual.

Same warnings and disclaimer as before. Please enjoy, and review if it isn't a problem. If you hate it, well, you can review too, but flames will be used to amuse myself and my friends

  
  


Chapter 3: Thoughts 

On planet Yasha . . . . 

"You there! Slave!" 

Yamcha looked up from his meal to find one of the most frightening aliens he had ever seen glowering down at him. _What race is that again . . . oh right, Yokai-jin. The locals here._

Whatever the name, the thing was nasty. Blood red eyes glared out from black skin which Yamcha was sure sucked in any form of light (which, in fact, was correct). It would have towered over Yamcha even if he hadn't been sitting. 

Once one got past the eyes and the skin - not that anyone ever did - you started noticing that the race was vaguely humanoid. _Humanoid in a twisted, nightmarish sort of way. With really sharp claws._ In this case the overall effect was slightly diminished by the Ice-jin Empire uniform the Yokai-jin wore. Slightly. 

"Yes, sir?" Yamcha had learned quickly that if you didn't know who a person was, you were better off treating them with some respect. With Yokai-jin this was doubly important, they were a race of highly trained assassins, the best in Frezia's armies. You did not want to mess with them. 

"Get your lazy ass off the ground and go load cargo onto the _Hanyo_," his voice was akin to nails on a chalkboard. Yamcha barely kept from wincing. 

"Right away, sir!" 

The Yokai-jin hissed at him, but left, assured his orders would not be ignored. 

With a sigh Yamcha scarfed down what was left of his lunch, a good meal was a rarity. A few moments later he had made his way down to the dockings bays to report. 

As it turned out, the _Hanyo_ was a small, white scout ship. Three Yokai-jins would be able to live comfortably in it for a year, given enough supplies. 

Even though he had been no match for the members of Frezia's army, the distinctly large and heavy box Yamcha now lifted was not a problem for him. Quickly he put it in the back of the ship's cargo hold and turned to go back for another. Voices on the other side of the hold made him stop. 

"I can't believe this! What a disgrace, Yokai-jins being used as scouts! I'm telling you, this Lord Frezia is not worth our time." 

"Quiet! Do you want to be executed for treason, Atre?" A second and somehow feminie voice replied. 

"Hmph. What's so important about this planet Namek, anyway? Can you tell me that Isf?" the voice Yamcha identified as Atre questioned. 

_Namek? Is that where this ship is going?_ Yamcha frowned at the vaguely familiar name, _Where do I know that from?_

"Why should I know? The captain said something about "dragon balls," whatever those are supposed to be." Isf shot back. 

_Did I hear right? Dragonballs?! . . . I need to get on this ship's crew!_

  


On Vegeta . . . . 

ChiChi was pretty sure that in her current situation she shouldn't be thinking about how gorgeous her rescuer was. For all she knew he was a rapist-axe-murderer who had dragged her into the forest to have his evil way with her. 

_If he is, at least he's a handsome rapist-axe-murderer with the best ass I've ever seen._

They had moved at a speed ChiChi had never thought possible on foot. Kakarotto had simply picked her up body and bones; "it will be faster" was his explanation as he took off at a run. He was strong too, by human standards anyway. She had been able to note his strength from her rather intimate position - cradled in his arms - and the ease with which he carried her weight. 

Now that she thought about it, her Saiya-jin saviour probably wouldn't need an axe to kill her. _He wouldn't even need an axe to chop down a thousand-year-old tree._

However, she just could not convince herself that this guy was dangerous. Well, to her at least. It wasn't simply that he had saved her, or even that he was the most attractive guy she'd ever met. What she had seen and felt when she looked into the onyx orbs he called eyes . . . 

She had heard people describe moments as "fate stirring." She hadn't known what they meant. Now she did 

There was one minor problem with the Saiya-jin hunk. He desperately needed a bath. _And a new change of clothes._

ChiChi frowned as she watched him move around the small open area they had found by a creek. This was not a guy who was taken care of by adoring parents, or even a not so adoring slave master. No, Kakarotto had obviously been on his own for a long time. For all that he was strong there was a certain gauntness to his form. _Not well fed. Homeless I guess._

"Kakarotto . . ." ChiChi changed her mind as he turned those expressive eyes on her. 

"Never mind," she murmured quickly. Silently she resolved that the second she got a chance she was going to cook him a good meal. 

He accepted her unwillingness to speak with a shrug and proceeded to take off the sash of his threadbare gi. A blush warmed ChiChi's cheeks, _wha . . ._

Kakarotto soaked the sash in the creek before folding it and bringing it over. 

"Here, it's not ice, but you need to keep the swelling down on that bruise. This should do the trick." 

Now she felt silly. Obviously he wasn't thinking of her the way she was thinking of him. _Get it together girl!_

The two sat in silence as ChiChi nursed her bruised cheek. 

It was a beautiful day, she noted absently despite her suddenly aching body. A little past mid-day, though the sun was still fairly high, the main heat of the day had settled into a comfortable warmth that made ChiChi a little drowsy. 

Vegeta's forests weren't unlike the evergreen forests of Earth. _Even if the plants, animals, birds and red-toned sky are a little strange._ Homesickness washed over her. 

A warm hand on her shoulder startled her. Turning she looked at Kakarotto through blurred vision. _I'm crying._

With a sob she launched herself into his arms, pressing her face against his chest. Shock froze him for a moment. Slowly his arms wrapped around her in a hug, letting her cry. 

  


Vejita was beyond pissed. He was beyond mad, angry, or even furious, there was actually no word to describe the anger he was feeling right now. Fighting with Nappa had done nothing to take the edge off his fury. Which was really too bad, because it seemed that his top commander was going to be on medical leave for the next few days. It should have at least served a purpose. 

_How dare he?! How dare that fucking tyrant mess with my life? I don't care how strong the asshole is, I'm_ going _to kill him!!! Bad enough that these damn senators are on my ass about getting a mate and an heir! I don't fucking need it from Frezia too!_

Vejita didn't even want to start thinking about the threat the oath implied to his people. If he did there wouldn't be a people left to worry about. 

_I need to get out of here, and I need to do so now._

There was a certain logistical issue with this course of action. Being the king meant the loss of a lot of freedom. Vejita couldn't simply go where he wanted when he wanted, not outside palace walls at any rate. 

Usually kings got around this clause by knowing the palace really, really well. When they were princes they had a decent amount of free time, which allowed them to search the palace for escape routes. These routes came in handy when they needed a moment away from being king later on. Vejita had not had the luxury of being a prince for long, so this option wasn't open to him. 

An official outing would take too long to put together. Besides, Vejita wanted to get out on his own, without the guards an official outing would require. 

_So what's left?_

Vejita stopped in mid-stride. He had a vague memory of being briefed on an experiment with scouters. Something about incorporating holographic technology into them. . . 

The King of Saiya-jins took off towards the technology labs. 

  


On Frezia's flag ship . . . . 

"You've got all that Zarbon?" Frezia inquired through the com-link with his Ambassador to planet Vegeta. 

"Yes, my lord," came the predictable reply. 

"Good. And one more thing Zarbon." 

"Yes, Lord Frezia?" 

"Tell Lady Rettisu that I'm agreeable to her . . . request. Help will be sent at the appropriate time." 

"Of course, my lord." 

With that Frezia snapped off the link. 

_Well, well, my young King. The game gets interesting. Let's see what you do about it._


	5. Chapter 4: Allies?

Disclaimer and Warnings still stand from previous chapters. 

Author's Notes: I'm going to take some liberties with power levels. It's necessary for survival issues. Son Gohan here is Goku's adoptive grandfather, not Goku's son. If you don't know who I'm talking about, see the original Dragonbll. 

Oh, and for those who are looking at my weird combinations of Japanese and English sub/dub/manga spelling of names and such and going "What?", the explaination is that I go with the spelling I like the most. 

Please enjoy, and review. If you hate it, well, you can review too, but flames will be used to to roast marshmellows 

  
  


Chapter 4: Allies? 

Bulma wasn't sure whether she should be happy or not. Hours and hours of work had finally come through; she had a functioning prototype of the holo-scouter. It needed some field testing, just to clear up any unknown bugs, but aside from that it was ready to go. Her "superiors" would be pleased with the progress no doubt. 

She had the same sense of satisfaction she always got from a finished project, however it was tempered by the knowledge it would be used by the monsters who had turned her people into slaves. 

Sparing a glance towards the bored-looking guard - a female named Kabaji who had replaced Radditsu hours before - the blue-haired genius wondered if it would be possible to hide her achievement. _Not likely, and definitely not for long, but it's worth a try._

The young woman got up abruptly, glaring at the scouter, "Fine, damn you! Don't work!" She shoved it into a self-locking drawer and stomped over to her guard. 

"It's supper time, I can't do anything with that piece of shit while I'm hungry." 

The surprised guard blinked at her, then grunted acceptance. Bulma barely bit back a smile, she had been counting on the typical Saiya-jin appetite to kick in at the mention of food. 

She trailed behind Kabaji on the way to the cafeteria designated to scientists working in the Palace. Thoughts about how to keep her progress with the holo-scouter secret filled her head as they walked. Bulma took no notice of her surroundings, nor did she notice that Kabaji had come to a halt until she knocked into her back. 

Startled she looked up about to say something sharp when she noticed the man in front of them. 

He was by far the sexiest thing she had ever seen. A bit on the short side, he made up for that with a presence that demanded awe and respect. An angled face spoke of a regal background and his ripped training uniform did nothing to hide toned muscle. Black hair jutted up like flame, the light bringing out red tones against the black. But by far it was the eyes that caught Bulma's attention, a deep black that drew her in even as the coldness in them warned her away. 

Whoever this guy was, he was absolutely the most perfect yet lethal thing Bulma had ever seen. 

"Kabaji, go," his voice held no room for argument. 

Bulma didn't hear the response, she was too caught up in the picture of Saiya-jin masculinity before her. However she did notice that Kabaji left, leaving her alone with this hunk who exuded danger. 

He met her gaze and smirked. 

  


Zarbon decided he distinctly hated Lady Rettisu. Not that anything she had said or done was particularly offensive, in fact she was the epitome of polite submissiveness. No, it was something in her eyes that set him off. Something greedy and power-hungry that reminded Zarbon of so many of the petty tyrants Lord Frezia so often indulged. 

It was not his place to judge Lord Frezia, of course. However, he had little stomach for the type of games the Ice-jin liked to play. And that was exactly what all of this was to Lord Frezia: a game. Something to entertain himself with outside of his planet purging, empire building, dungeons and torture-chambers. 

When it came down to it, Lady Rettisu was here in Zarbon's chambers for the same reason that planet Vegeta and its population of Saiya-jins still existed. It amused Lord Frezia. Nothing more and nothing less. 

"Ambassador Zarbon, this is truly thrilling news. This is a time of great challenges and great changes. Lord Frezia's support and guidance is of the upmost importance to myself and to the Saiya-jins as a whole." 

"True, Senator. Our Lord Frezia is certainly an incredible leader, now and in the future." 

Zarbon watched Lady Rettisu's expression closely. The problem with those who wanted power was that they were never satisfied with what they received. Of course, the wizened old senator wasn't so foolish as to challenge Frezia. However, it payed to be cautious. 

"My dear lady, I entrust that you shall inform me of any plans or progress as this . . . venture proceeds?" 

"I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise, Ambassador." 

"I don't doubt. I shall see you at the senate meeting tomorrow then, Lady Rettisu, unless something comes up between now and then. Have a good evening." 

"You as well," she murmured on a bow. 

Zarbon scowled at the door which she had retreated through. 

_I really hate that woman._

  


On Earth . . . . 

Piccolo looked around at the gathering of Earth's potential saviours. They were pathetic, a bunch of useless humans cowering in a cave. He wasn't even sure why he was putting up with their hopeful chattering. 

They had been introduced by the bald-headed Kuririn. Most were god-like fighters by normal human terms, but by Piccolo's terms they were nothing. Except . . . 

Except a few of them were half interesting. 

There was the giant sitting on the floor for instance, wearing a helmet with horns sticking out from it. He wasn't exactly the brightest, but this one was trained relatively well. Supposedly one of Kame-sen'in's students years ago, he had been introduced as Gyu-Mao. The Ox King. 

An old man stood at the front of the group, a midget compared to Gyu-Mao. He was stooped over and wearing a Chinese-style outfit. To look at him a normal person would not think much of him. Piccolo was not a normal person. He could feel the power level of this old man, and while it was nowhere near his own, it was impressive. This one was a Son Gohan, another trained by the Turtle Master. 

In the corner Tenshinhan, called Tien mostly, leaned against the wall of the cave with his arms crossed. His three-eyed-gaze watched the entrance like a hawk. He was far stronger than either Gyu-Mao or Son Gohan. _This one would make a decent sparing partner, with some training._

There were others hardly worth noticing in terms of power but interesting nonetheless. A Mr. Satan who was loud and obnoxious but no where near the level of the company he kept. A native child who had lost his father in the fighting, a small thing called Upa. Piccolo unwillingly found himself thinking the child was cute. A short but fat man called Yajirobi, who had some skill but no will to use it. And a cat with bad injuries who leaned heavily on his walking stick, a former martial arts master called Korin. 

Then there was Kuririn. Piccolo eyed the short, bald-headed young man who was busily explaining his discovery. He wasn't quite as strong as Tien, but held considerably more potential. 

"Well, how about it Piccolo?" the teen asked, excitement in his voice. 

"What?" 

"Will you join us and help us hunt for the Dragonballs?" 

Piccolo took one last look around at the strange assortment of people. _There must be something in the air here._

The demon nodded. 

"For now." 

  


On Vegeta . . . . 

Kyukamubaa - Kyu for short - sat in the darkest, dingiest corner of _The Deadman's Haven_. Growling to himself he surveyed the crowd with distaste. 

There was no one who was not welcomed at _The Deadman's Haven_, elite or slave you could sit down and have a drink. Not that this acceptance from the owner necessarily stemmed over to his customers, but anyone who picked a fight here would find themselves kicked out on a permanent basis. And since they had the best beer on the planet there were few who were willing to do so. 

Kyu was a man who liked to pick fights, when he knew he would win, but he liked the drinks here more. So he restrained himself. Instead he nursed his fifth drink much the same as he nursed his ego. 

_It was a fluke. That little shit caught me off guard is all._

"Waitress!! Get me another!" he bellowed holding up his almost empty glass. He ignored her reply, knowing the pretty little thing with purple hair and huge eyes would do it. 

She was the same race as the slut who had antagonized him earlier, he noted with a sneer. The bitch who'd gotten in a punch that had actually bruised his face. He had just been about to pay her back for that when the street-rat had shown up to save her. 

"They're dead. The both of them. That whore ChiChi and the brat who got in my way," he muttered to himself as the waitress handed him his drink. 

  


Lunch moved away from the dirty Saiya-jin in the corner. She could have sworn she'd just heard him muttering about her friend ChiChi. 

"Oh, my," she murmured just as one of the other waitress brushed past the counter raising dust. 

"Ach-chooo!" 

Chaos took over in _The Deadman's Haven_. 


	6. Chapter 5: Invitations

Disclaimer: yaddayaddaa.... you know this already. 

Author's Notes: Blah!  
Review please, flames will heat my house during blackouts. 

  
  


Chapter 5: Invitations 

On Yasha . . . . 

"Listen up!" The local slave director called above the conversations of a dozen or so slaves. Yamcha vaguely tried to remember what species the short blue man was but came up with a blank. It didn't really matter, he was in charge and that was enough knowledge at the moment. 

"I. Said. SHUT UP!!" The effect was immediate, a line was formed and silence permeated the room. Lessons were harsh, the director was harsher, you learned that quickly or you didn't survive. 

"One of you punks is lucky. Or unlucky, however you want to put it. The twelve of you are here because you behave. For the most part." With this he glanced at Yamcha. 

He hadn't been one of the ones who learned quickly. In fact, Yamcha hadn't started cooperating until he realized that his best chance of getting out of this hell-hole was on good behaviour. 

"I've been informed by the Captain of the _Hanyo_ that the ship needs a . . . an errand boy. The _Hanyo_ is going on a trip, children. And one of you is going to volunteer to go." 

Yamcha couldn't believe his luck. _How to make sure I'm the one to go?_

"Well, who wants to go?" the alien sounded far too friendly for Yamcha's liking. So friendly that directly volunteering was probably a bad idea. Apparently the others agreed with this assessment, no one was rushing to volunteer. 

Vague ideas about how to do this with the least amount of suspicion were still floating through Yamcha's head when a huge figure loomed over the assembled slaves. 

_Three figures,_ Yamcha amended, looking over, _although the one in front is more intimidating than the other two._

There was something familiar about the Yokai-jin who was obviously the leader of this group. 

"Captain!" The slave director's voice came out as an undignified squeak, "I was just in the process of picking out one of these for you . . ." He trialed off as the Captain's gaze raked the line, resting on Yamcha. 

"No need, I've already chosen." Now Yamcha knew why this guy was familiar, it was the Yokai-jin from earlier who had told him to load cargo onto the _Hanyo_. 

_The scary guy with the nails-on-chalkboard voice._

Mr. Big and Nasty pointed at Yamcha, "Atre, Isf. Take this one and familiarize him with the ship and his duties." 

"Yes, sir," chorused the two flanking him. 

_Well,_ Yamcha mused as he followed Isf and Atre, _that solves one problem. Hope I haven't landed in a bigger one._

  
  


On Vegeta . . . . 

Caulif flopped into a booth at _The Deadman's Haven_ as carelessly as she seemingly did everything else in life. With trained idleness she watched as Radditsu took the seat across from her, being more careful due to the drinks he held. 

He'd changed. Physically, of course, but that wasn't what interested Caulif. No, it was the look in his eyes that had changed the most. Radditsu was battle-worn, tired, listless and lacking direction. 

_He's like I was before . . . ._

"So, Radditsu, what have you been up to all this time?" 

"Nothing much, normal army stuff. Off-world postings for the most part, I'm doing guard duty at the moment though. Bored out of my skull really. You?" 

Picking up her drink she took a sip before responding, "Same stuff really. Sometimes I think 'if things were different,' you know?" 

Radditsu nodded his agreement. "Yeah, I do. But it's not like anything is going to change. Not while Frezia's around." 

"I'm not so sure," Caulif watched Radditsu's reactions carefully. 

_It'll be a risk, but . . ._

"Rad, you're right. Nothing is going to change. Not while people don't do anything to change it. But there are some . . . There are some who are working towards change." 

"Huh?" 

Leaning forward, Caulif decided. She was sure Radditsu would be worth the risk. 

"Ne, Rad? Have you ever heard of a group called _Third Eye_?" 

  
  


Kakarotto sat leaning against a tree, wide eyes looking up at the stars without seeing them. 

_What is it about this girl?_

ChiChi had fallen asleep after pouring out her story to him. Her tears had pulled at his heart, they were _wrong_. She shouldn't bear so much pain. 

As a rule Kakarotto didn't think much on the comings and goings of anyone or anything outside his own existence. Things like Frezia, armies, and the purging-slash-takeover of planets were beyond his ability to affect, so he didn't think about them. Slavery he was more familiar with, he was faced with that every day, but it was a fact of life. True, it had bothered him before but he'd never been angry about it like he was now. 

ChiChi had told him about the take-over of Earth, of armies and fighting, of friends found and lost, and of being taken from her home to be slave. In that she'd actually been vaguely lucky, having been bought by an old woman who merely wanted someone to cook and clean, things that under other circumstances ChiChi enjoyed. 

That didn't change the fact that she was a slave and a long way from home. 

The old woman had died recently. No one had bothered to claim ChiChi as their property, so she'd been more or less free for a few days. Still, now she had nowhere to go, and no way to support herself. 

Upon hearing this Kakarotto had immediately offered for her to stay with him for a while. He felt drawn to ChiChi, he needed to make her safe and happy. She had accepted the offer. 

_Stupid!_ Kakarotto mentally berated himself. _You're a homeless street-rat! What do you have to offer her? No food, no money, not even a place to sleep under a roof!_

He wasn't sure why he'd made the offer in the first place, it had been purely instinctual, and his pleasure when she'd accepted had been beyond reason. 

Hell, he was _still_ pleased about it, but now there was a nagging voice in the back of his head. _You'll fail her and she'll hate you for it._

Kakarotto wasn't ever sure about much, but he was positive that the last thing he wanted was for ChiChi to hate him. 

He looked over at her sleeping and felt something fall into place in his heart. 

_So I'll figure this out, and I_ won't _fail her._

  
  


Kabaji scowled at her brother in distaste. 

"You're drunk again, Kyu." 

"So? 'Ish not yur problem," Kyukamubaa retorted as he stumbled in through the door. 

Sighing, Kabaji put down the book she'd been reading and went over to steady him on the trip to his room. 

This was nothing new, her brother - _Well, half-brother_ - was forever coming home at strange hours, and was usually piss-loaded drunk. It bothered Kabaji immensely, but more so because she also knew Kyu had reasons for being drunk half the time. 

Shaking her head, she kicked open the door to his room half-carrying, half-dragging him in. Strangely he kept his room clean, _Almost not lived in_. 

Kyu dropped onto the bed with a thump. It would have been funny had she not seen it happen so many times before. 

She started to leave the room with some idea of getting a bucket for him, just in case he needed it later. 

"The hag'll not like you takin' care of me," Kyu's voice drifted up from the bed, causing Kabaji to halt in her tracks. 

"Mother isn't home. She had a meeting with Zarbon earlier, and she's been gone making arrangements since. She was home briefly, she seemed....pleased about something." 

"Don' care 'bout that . . ." 

Kyu was twisted, vulgar, dirty, forever drinking, always getting in fights, and was generally messed up but he was her brother. 

Kabaji turned to met his gaze, only to find him asleep. 

_I'll let him sleep._


	7. Chapter 6: Findings

Disclaimer and Warnings: You know the drill, I don't own anything, this isn't for profit. Warnings include swearing, general dark stuff, nothing new yet. 

Author's Notes: WAAAAAHHHHHHHH! I'm soooooo sorry! I've been buried in school work, I really had no concept of how long it had been since I last wrote a chapter!!! Yeeee.....   
This chapter is written a little differently in the second half of it, during flashbacks thoughts are denoted by //.   
And as always please, please review. 

Chapter 6: Findings 

On Earth . . . . 

Kuririn had known when they had made a firm decision to go after the Dragonballs that it wasn't going to be easy. After all, they could be anywhere on Earth, even the in the bases of Frezia's army. 

Of course, he hadn't thought they would need to invade an enemy stronghold the day after they found out the Dragonballs were still around either. 

Plans to start the search had come to a screeching halt when Kuririn had noticed a fundamental problem. 

They didn't know how to find the Dragonballs. 

A quick question told them that Piccolo didn't know where they were either. Luckily Tien had remembered that Bulma had made a Dragon Radar to locate the balls. That was wonderful, they even knew where the Dragon Radar was. 

_Too bad the Dragon Radar is still inside Capsule Corporations._

There were two problems with that. The first was simply that Capsule Corporations was huge. Literally the place was a maze of living quarters, offices, board rooms, the occasional Hoi-Poi Capsule factory and research labs. Even assuming that nothing had been changed since Kuririn had last been there - a big assumption - the Dragon Radar itself could be just about anywhere in that mess. 

The second problem was the one that bothered Kuririn even more. Capsule Corporations was being used as a research faculty by Frezia's people. 

_Wonderful,_ Kuririn thought dryly from his post behind a bush. _Just wonderful, a host of people working for Frezia, some even willingly,_ and _a platoon of military trained guards to protect them._

_How are we going to get in and out without raising an alarm?_

"Hey, what's that symbol that all the guard's are wearing? I can't place it." Yajirobi whispered, interrupting Kuririn's thoughts. 

"Huh?" He looked back at the entrance guards, wondering what Yajirobi was talking about. _I still can't believe so many humans sided with Frezia. Scared I guess._ Squinting Kuririn finally noticed what Yajirobi had already seen. A symbol shaped like a red bow-tie with two white R's in it. 

Kuririn choked back laughter, _This might not be so difficult after all._

Turning to his companions Kuririn grinned, "Guys, I have a plan." 

  


Deep inside Capsule Corps two figures, a boy and a girl, watched from a view screen as two humans, a human with three-eyes and an alien with green skin waltzed through the front doors. All four were wearing an older style of the getup worn by Frezia's people, marking them as full soldiers. 

"Those idiots let them through without asking questions," commented the boy idly. He was by appearance a teenager with straight black hair cut just below the chin. Yet the indifference in his eyes and voice spoke of him being something a little more. 

"You expected something different?" retorted the girl as she examined her nails. She, too, seemed to be a teenager, with blonde hair slightly longer than the boy's and cold blue eyes that looked right past you. 

"Huh," a smirk wound its way onto the boy's face. "Well, as long as they're here I may as well find out what they want. And have a little fun along the way. You coming with, Juuhachigou?" 

Juuhachigou glanced back at the view screen where the intruders could be seen attempting to figure out what to do next. To her amusement she noticed one of the human's was both completely bald and incredibly short. _Definitely not with Frezia's army._

"It's something to do besides listen to you complain that you're bored." 

"I am bored. There's nothing to do around here since we got rid of Gero." 

"Fine. Let's go welcome the guests, Juunanagou." 

  
  


On Vegeta . . . . 

Vaguely the King of Saiya-jin's wondered how, exactly, he had ended up in a bar at six in the morning. A bar with the rather interesting name of The Deadman's Haven none the less. 

_Hell, for that matter, how did I end up sneaking out with a slave, and then spending the night_ talking _to that same slave . . . That same very beautiful, very intelligent, wonderful. . . _

Vejita decided not to follow that train of thought. It also occurred to him that he should probably head back to the palace before he was missed. _That_ idea was vetoed without conscious effort. In fact, it vanished into thin air when he glanced at his companion. 

She's beautiful . . . . 

*Flashback* 

// She's beautiful // was Vejita's first thought upon seeing the woman who trialed along behind Kabaji. Despite the too-big lab coat and hair that was falling down after what had obviously been a long day, she was still drop-dead gorgeous. Her body was curved in all the right places, her skin was the colour of cream, her hair was an incredible shade of blue. 

On some whim he could barely understand he ordered Kabaji to leave. It was then he made his first mistake; he looked into the eyes that were staring at him. 

// Blue. The same shade as her hair // he noted in a daze. However, it was the spirit, the fire in them that was hypnotic. Those eyes drew him in, giving him the sense that he was lost somewhere in their depths. 

Somehow he managed to grab hold of himself enough to smirk at her in his usual manner. 

All his problems and worries seemed to vanish as temper leaped to match the fire in her eyes. It seemed she disliked being laughed at, which struck him as so funny he started laughing out loud. 

That was his second mistake. 

*End Flashback* 

That incident had escalated into a verbal fight that was, essentially, about nothing. It had ended rather abruptly when she seemed to realize that she, a slave, was fighting with a Saiya-jin. 

For his part, Vejita had realized three things. Firstly, she had no clue who or what he was. Secondly, no one had ever really disagreed or fought with him. Sure, they had sparred with him when he required a sparring partner, but not once had anyone ever disputed his opinions or will. Thirdly, he enjoyed it. He enjoyed the challenge this spitfire of a human slave presented to him as an intellectual equal. 

After the rather abrupt end to their fight they had stood in silence for a few moments before one of them - Vejita couldn't recall which - had pointed out that standing in the middle of the hallway might not be the best idea, even if it was a deserted one for the most part. 

Rightfully they should have parted ways. Yet . . . 

*Flashback* 

"You know, if you want to continue our fight we should probably do it outside the palace," the young woman pointed out. 

Vejita was quiet for a moment, "We would have to sneak out." 

An elegant eyebrow arched but she didn't ask why. 

"Well. . . ." she seemed to hesitate, "There is something I've been working on that could disguise us . . . It could use a test run. Would that help?" 

*End flashback* 

She had been talking about a holo-scouter. They had grabbed hooded cloaks for them both, she had divested herself of the lab coat and then hooked the holo-scouter over Vejita's ear and pushed a button. After making sure the disguise was functioning (something the scientist gushed over), they had left the palace. In fact, they had simply walked out the front door, no questions asked. 

They had walked in relative silence before agreeing to go into _The Deadman's Haven_. Once there they turned off the holo-scouter - it was dark and dingy enough inside that the cloak hid Vejita well. Surprisingly though, they didn't start their fight again. Instead they had talked long into the night (the establishment was open all hours of the day), occasionally getting food and drink. 

Which explained why Vejita was now sitting in the same booth they had sat in when they had first come in, staring at the most amazing woman he had ever met. 

A woman who thought he was a palace guard named Vega. It was a lie he had made up when she asked what his name was; after all, they weren't likely to spend any more time together, and it was better she didn't know who he was. She probably wouldn't believe him anyway. 

Those fabulous blue eyes glanced at the window and grew wide upon seeing the sun trying to come up. 

"We need to go. Now. I have to be back, or I'll be in real trouble," she stated in a panic. 

He didn't want to, but he left, giving her back the holo-scouter and agreeing not to tell anyone about it before parting ways. 

Later that morning as he sat in a council meeting, Vejita's mind kept wandering. Kept going back to the night he'd spent talking with a beautiful, intelligent scientist-slave with fire in her eyes. 

A human female named Bulma. 


End file.
